


tha gaol agam ort

by softheartelectricsoul



Category: The Tapestry Series - Henry H. Neff
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 10:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16638305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softheartelectricsoul/pseuds/softheartelectricsoul
Summary: and i will never be your shadow.the goddess of heroically stupid death dies a heroically stupid death.(kinda roleswap au???)





	tha gaol agam ort

she sits in dun scaith, and she reminisces while she waits. the sunset casts shadows twelve _forrachs_ long and as dark as the void.

she has arrived at the end of the road, the end of her journey—a great looping ouroboros that has lead her back to this fortress on the shore of the isle of skye.

  -

the memories of her and that of her body mingle.

for on one hand she is the greatest of warriors, god of the dead, a shadow in the dark—

and on the other she is an agent and teaching assistant from scotland who likes walks on the shore—

and in some other way she is both.

for now, though, there is no time for an identity crisis. the gods are coming soon.

-

the image on the screen flickers and distorts, but finally stabilises to reveal a girl with braided red hair and sharp colourless eyes.

"sis!" the girl on the screen breaks into a smile. "how's life across the pond?"

umbra smiles back. "it's been good. how about you, aoife? how's your national 4 going?"

"awful bad. i think missus scott may kill me in my sleep." aoife groans. "teachers are terrible. present company excluded, of course."

"you're a canny kid. you'll be fine."

aoife breaks out into laughter. "supposedly, dear sister. i'm a pure dolt. didn't you hear what i said to papa?"

umbra shakes her head. "nah. tell me."

and she does.

-

she is queen of the phantoms, a goddess of carnage and fertility. (an oxymoron, but flowers grow on graves, do they not?)

she is three and three are her. she is a wolf, a raven, a babe, a woman. she is the wife of dagda and the lover of lugh.

she is the morrigan.

-

the washer on the brook dips a red hoodie into the stream. it's torn in some places, stained with blood and dust. the logo on the back is hardly readable— only the letters R and L remain.

the washer wonders.

-

_mortal._

the morrigan's voice carries over the sea as she steps ashore. she dons a cloak of feathers and an aura of death.

but the shadow is familiar with death. it's her domain. she stands at ease. _as i am,_ she admits.

the morrigan bares her teeth. _lugh will take no mercy on you, coward._

_i never needed his mercy. when did you become his messenger?_

_scathách, this is folly. or are you umbra now, a mortal lass?_

_i will always be scathách._

_scathách would return to rodrubân._

_i will never, macha. not while the sun still sets._

_it does no good to stay attached to humans. you are the shadow, warrior queen. why have you deviated?_

_i am the shadow, yes. but i am not his shadow._

_then so be it._

the goddess shifts into a crow and takes off. she watches the flight of the bird, dodging the ghosts and banishments.

the real sun will rise, soon, though the star is high in the air.   
-

a package winds up on her doorstep the day before she leaves. it contains a hoodie and a note which looks like it's been crumpled up then hastily flattened.

> hey ms. ~~bunand~~ buanand! the rain was real strong last night, so we couldn't deliver this to you directly. anyway we're terribly sad you're going away. you always were our ~~favourite~~ ~~it's favorite, cynthia~~ _favourite_ teacher even though you were a bit scary at times haha. We  ~~stole~~   ~~shut up connor~~ bought this jacket for you! we always knew you were a huge comics fan ~~you never told us what genre so we assumed you had good taste~~   ~~shut _up_ max~~, and it's real cold in scotland so we thought you would enjoy this! thank you for teaching us this year!
> 
> \- your students :D

she stuffs the note in the pocket of the jacket.

-

the god's radiance shines so bright she can barely gaze upon him. _lugh. you came back?_. she asks.

i _did. for you_. he is a man of few words. _this is your last chance._

_did the morrigan not speak to you? i will never return. not while the sun still sets. this is my domain._

_this is against the laws of the world._

she smiles a plastic smile. _do you not have the dignity to let me die at home?_

his face creases. _this place was never your home._

_and yet, king, i was never meant to live at rodrubân, never meant to be your lieutenant. i am the shadow, warrior queen, and i was born to fight and teach._ her hand creeps for her sword.

_let it be so._ a cloud passes over the sun, casting shadows on the ground. the light dims, and she can see the outline of a man. _will you regret this?_ the man, the king, the god—he pauses. does guilt shift across his face? she'll never know.

she laughs by way of answer.  _if i never do, i shall meet you in the land of youth._ she thinks of aoife, thinks of the note in the pocket of the hoodie. thinks of mortality.

(is this the home she will die at?)

the shadow strikes.

 

 

 


End file.
